


Up at Night

by gemmaspumpkins



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: M/M, More Questions, Tempi backstory, on the road to Haert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 22:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemmaspumpkins/pseuds/gemmaspumpkins
Summary: On their trip back to Haert, Tempi wakes up with night terrors remembering his childhood and what happened when he recognized the rhinta.





	Up at Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to a lot of questions I have - questions like "why did Tempi recognize the rhinta?" "why wasn't Tempi a great mercenary?" "why would a not-great mercenary be sent on assignment with the Maer?" "were Tempi and Kvothe definitely doing it on the way back from Haert?" etc. It also puts some texture on Adem society (as if there wasn't enough in WMF already...) Anyway, it's not as polished as I'd like, but no one has posted anything in like a month, so here it is.

Tempi had seen the Rhinta among the bandits. He had seen into its very soul, and it had put a face on his fears. Tempi was hesitant to even use _he_ to describe the thing, though it was clearly in the shape of a man. But to think of it as human sent shivers down his spine. As he walked with Kvothe, Tempi would glance toward the redhead, as if to check it was still Kvothe, the barbarian, and not some demonic being.

Sometime in the night, he saw the Rhinta's eyes in his nightmares, and he woke, breathing heavily. He thought he had screamed, but Kvothe didn't stir, his even breathing bringing Tempi back into the real world. Tempi wondered if Kvothe would have woken to a scream anyway – he was so exhausted from the trekking and training. Tempi hoped Kvothe would never know fear like Tempi's fear of the Rhinta. How could he, when he had such powerful magic?

But even that was not enough. Tempi watched Kvothe's body rise and fall with breathing. All that power and still human.  
  
He wrestled with asking Kvothe, had he known what the Maer was sending them after? If not Kvothe, what about Danil who had assigned him to this job? Surely Danil was not so new to assignments that he did not know who Tempi was. But then, Tempi was never quite sure who he was in the first place.

 

\-----------

 

Tempi's earliest memory was of his mother in a shift of gray homespun, chasing him around her small house, laughing deeply, then stopping to catch her breath and pulling him into a hug. She was beautiful. She had asked Tempi if he wanted to go to the School of the Sword Tree with his neighbors, and he remembered being confused. Why would he want to do that when his mother could take care of him? She said that was good, and of the Lethani. At four years old, Tempi knew nothing of the Lethani, but he knew his mother's smile and was glad of his answer.  
  
Soon, all the neighbors were gone. The children to the schools and their mothers taking the red. But Tempi didn't mind. There were other adults around, and he remembered them each: Yan, Brethna, Cago, and Cael. These men kept the town running around the school, working in the storefronts in the town. Tempi's mother's sister, Hana, was also around, often talking seriously with his mother, but not without a special joy when Tempi walked into the room.

And such was his young life. Tempi had all he could ever dream of, and most of it to himself. There were few other children his age who weren't at the school. He spent his days in the shops, curious about everything – science at Yan's apothecary, figures and business at Brethna's general store, animals in Cael's herds, and later in the butcher shop. Most of all, he was interested in Cago's blacksmithing. He would spend hours over the forge fire, and come home with a face black from the dust and ash. At nine years old, he didn't have the strength to do most of the things Cago did, but the man encouraged his questions and attempts. Tempi looked up to him, and Cago gave him his first understanding of the Lethani. Sometimes it was of the Lethani not to take the red, but to take the black of iron and turn it into belt loops and pots and pans, and that was the duty bestowed on Cago after he had broken a leg in Vintas. Tempi did not understand the Lethani then, but he understood the admiration he felt for Cago, and was glad Cago was in Haert and not among the barbarians as he once had been.

Tempi's mother was content for Tempi to not attend the school if it would be of the Lethani for him to become a baker or a butcher or a blacksmith.

"Why must everyone in this town be injured to work? What better stoves we would have if someone was a blacksmith his whole life, and not only because he couldn't outrun an Aturan arrow?" And Hana knew her sister was right, and so Tempi was the only child of Haert.

 

***

Kvothe must have finally grown accustomed to the training, because the next night, he was at Tempi's side when he awoke in the night. Tempi had thought about the Rhinta for years, been sad, been confused, been vaguely scared. But seeing one and knowing instantly what it was, what its kind had done, just by the look of pure evil set with hollow eyes – that face gave a sheer terror to his dreams.

 Kvothe handed him a cup of something warm.

"Drink this. It will calm you." _Concern_.

"Thank you." _Embarrassment. Sadness. Mourning._ Tempi focused on the warmth of the drink, but his breathing did not slow. And then he felt it. A lifetime of being Ademic kept him from the goosebumps or startling a barbarian might have let happen, but Tempi simply leaned in to Kvothe's hand on his back.

Since there was no alarm, Kvothe's hand remained, and it seemed to soothe Tempi. "What was that last hand sign? I don't think you've taught me that one yet." _Curiousity._

"Sadness."

"No, the other one."

"A kind of sadness." Tempi gestured that the subject was done.

"Want me to tell you a story?" Tempi gestured yes, and Kvothe launched into a story of princes and princesses and talking donkeys, and then Kvothe was moving Tempi back into his bedroll, his strong hands and arms guiding a now warm and contented Tempi into the night.

***

"We cannot send the students!" Hana had said behind the only  door inside Tempi's house. He could not see their hands, and it seemed all very serious. "We cannot let the young fight the battles meant for us."

"You are right. It is not of the Lethani for me to continue to stand by. We will go." His mother left the house, and he saw tears on her cheeks. _Sadness. Duty. Love. Honor._

That was when the stories began, as his mother began to prepare him for her leaving. The stories were scary and confusing, about a man who could burn down a country, a woman who had starved the sky; beings that did not feel pain or fear. They didn't make any sense to Tempi, who could not conceive of a world outside of Haert any more than he could imagine a river flowing with iron. He asked Cago about the stories, and he said, "Your mother is right." _Deep respect. Innate fear._ "These are real things, and these are hard times." Tempi only heard the word Rhinta once.

  
The four men who were his only friends, his mother, his aunt, and another woman began to meet in the house regularly. He didn't quite understand their hushed tones, but he loved having them all together, and they would often talk to him after they finished their serious conversations. The woman who was not Hana or his mother wouldn't, she was disgusted that Tempi was not in school, and made no secret of her thoughts. 

"It is not of the Lethani for a child to be idle." _Contempt._

"He is not idle, Larel, he is learning every day." _Sincerity._ "He will be a great blacksmith one day," Cago had said, and Tempi's pride swelled. The other men began to smile and joke that he would be a great herdsman, shopkeep or butcher as well. Tempi felt warm and loved.

Two weeks later, all seven of them waved goodbye to a happy Tempi who still expected to see them by dinnertime. He wandered the town, and made his way to where the school was hosting some kind of demonstration. He saw his cousin, Hana's daughter, and he saw Larel's daughter, but he did not say anything, just watched. He wondered if they knew who he was. The fighting was as mesmerizing as the forge. He and his mother had watched it often, but as spectators only. She never let on that she was once of the third stone herself, he would learn that later. He wondered then if his mother had wanted a daughter. Maybe she would have one when she returned. 

When she did not return that night, Tempi was content to eat the food in his house and to sleep himself. By the third day, he was picking things up from the store and leaving notes for Brethna. He wondered why no one visited the shop. It began to seem as if everyone was in on a joke he did not understand. He could not wait for his mother to return to explain it to him. He became worried, but he was not sure where to turn. Every adult he knew and trusted was on this strange journey.

On the seventh day, Shehyn approached him at the blacksmith shop, where he was organizing horseshoes, as he could not start the forge fire himself. Tempi recognized her from the school and scrambled to his feet. _Deep respectful greeting._

She motioned the same to him, which seemed overly formal to Tempi, who was used to adults who were his friends or those like Larel who ignored him. There had never been another option.

"Hello Tempi. Your mother asked me to look after you, but you seem to be doing alright."

"Thank you. When will she return?" _Serious respectful question_.

"Would you like to come to the school? We have many students your age."

"I am studying to be a blacksmith." _Sincere apology._

"As your teacher is away, it may be best for you to stay at the school for a time. We need good blacksmiths, but until Cago returns, you will have no teacher here." She made a gesture of sadness toward the empty hearth. Suddenly Tempi's throat caught. He began to understand what was happening. He gestured a _hesitant yes_ to Shehyn and followed her out the door.

That day, she took him to her rooms and told him about his mother being a great fighter. Even though he watched his mother practice the ketan, he did not know his mother had once taken the red. She did not tell him, for she did not want him to feel ashamed for not attending the school. She was of the third stone, and on an assignment in Yll when she was injured. When she returned to Haert, she could not even complete her ketan. She lived in shame with Hana, who was running the mill in between assignments. She became ripe with child. When the time came for Tempi to be born, her injuries still hurt her. Because of this, it was of the Lethani for her to remain at home. Hana had sent her daughter to the school, and meant to return to the red, but instead stayed to care for her sister. Though caring was of the Lethani, Hana yearned to be back in her reds.

His mother could not ignore her own duties when the call came. Of course, it had come when there was a war on, when the reds were in the highest demand.

  
Tempi did not believe at first, but listened out of respect. He had never known his mother to take the red. Hana, yes, and all the men, and Larel, and the other women at the mill had been mercenaries before they worked at the mill, of course – but his mother? No, she was too gentle and kind and true. 

He did not take classes at first, but slowly he began to practice the ketan as Shehyn invited him to learn with her every morning. He did not ask too many questions, but those he did ask were about his mother.

_Why had she gone?_ Because it was of the Lethani.

_Where had she gone?_ To the north.

_What was she doing there?_ Protecting Ademre from a great evil, or wicked creatures, or the Chandrian (he recognized the phrases his mother had used for the Rhinta).

_Who are these evil creatures?_ Not who, but what.

_What then?_ A deep and ancient evil that has plagued Temerant since before it was Temerant.

_When will she return?_

 

***

The next night, Kvothe and Tempi sat in silence watching the fire, Tempi holding his cup and Kvothe rubbing circles on his bare back. Occasionally, he would pause, and trace Tempi's scars.

"This is good for your muscles too." Kvothe said. Tempi gestured _gratitude_. He considered telling Kvothe about his nightmares, about how he had seen into the rhinta and now he saw it every night. But he did not know enough. How would he say it? _Kvothe, did you recognize that evil? Kvothe, did you lead us into a trap?_ He wasn't sure if barbarians knew of the Rhinta at all, perhaps they were only enemies of the Adem, or were another secret he would be in trouble for sharing. There was no way to say it that did not involve turning to face Kvothe, and to do that would take the strong, gentle hands off of him. 

Tempi was glad he did not say anything, for the hands began to dip lower and lower on his back.

 

***

A month and a span after his mother left, Shehyn called Tempi, his cousin Janne, and Carcaret, Larel's daughter, to her rooms. They sat outside waiting to be let in, each secretly knowing their mothers would be on the other side of the door.

Shehyn opened the door, but there was only one other person in the room, an older woman who Tempi had never seen. She was studying something on the table. Seven somethings.

Janne cried out and ran to the table. _Disbelief. Terror. Anguish._ Her tears were immediate and flowing. Carcaret did not move, her face a clouded stone. Tempi walked slowly, as if being held back by the wind, savoring every second he did not have to know what was on the table.

There were seven dirty, bloody, tarnished swords.

 

***

The third night, Kvothe's hands pulled Tempi into his bedroll – for warmth, Tempi had explained. He held Kvothe tight, for the comfort of another person slowed Tempi's breathing, and for the sheer joy it brought him. Kvothe stroked his hair and murmured into his ear until they were asleep. It says much of the strenuous trek that they could sleep at all with every bit of skin that touched alive with a sensation Tempi hadn't felt since he had left Ademre.

 

***

Carcaret did not speak to either Janne or Tempi, but tried to take her mother's sword. The older woman gently stopped her. "Your teacher will give you a sword when you are ready." Carcaret's eyes had stung at this, but she did not respond, and instead turned on her heel and exited the room.  
  
Janne left the School of the Sword Tree. Shehyn wrote a letter of introduction and recommendation, and Janne made her way to the Path of Joy. In the moment, Tempi had tried to console her, but he was not any good for it. He turned to the older woman. Without his asking, she pointed to a beautiful gray metal sword.

"This one was your mother's. She was a woman with a deep understanding of the Lethani. She was the two hundred and fifty second owner of Vansara and she will be remembered greatly." _Respect. Mourning. Sorrow._

"And the others?" _Anguish. Sorrow. Mourning. Grief._

The old woman pointed at each sword and spoke of its owner and their attentiveness to the Lethani.

Everyone Tempi knew was dead.

He began classes the next day.

  
  
***

By the time Kvothe and Tempi were within three days of Haert, the two knew each other's bodies better than their own. Tempi barely woke in the night, for if his eyes even fluttered, Kvothe's grip around him grew stronger and he would hum a sweet song until Tempi rested. In the mornings, when they would wake up tangled together, they would untangle themselves, and then re-tangle themselves – as a way to get energized for the day ahead, Kvothe had explained. Tempi knew sex was different for barbarians, but he didn't know exactly what this was for either of them. It was music and warmth and contentment, and in the uncertainty that lie ahead for him, Tempi was not going to deprive himself.

 

***

Tempi liked the idea of using the rage he felt about his mother and his friends as fuel to make him the fiercest Adem mercenary in Temerant, but the fact was, he was years behind the others. He barely knew of the ketan, and his understanding of the Lethani was faked – he simply answered the way he thought his mother would.

Carcaret ignored him, pointedly. He did not blame her. He knew she was deeply jealous that he had spent so much time with his mother while Carcaret had been at the school, that he had been what she considered to be carefree and useless while she had been studying and practicing – and yet both their mothers were dead.

The school became his home. Other mercenaries returned injured and took up the roles of shopkeep, herdsman, chemist. He visited the blacksmith once. When he saw new hooks in the dining hall, he knew someone else had taken Cago's place. Tempi spoke to the man, a kind, older man. Too old for assignments, and too old to be learning a whole new trade, Tempi thought. The man was excited to talk to him, when Tempi said he had apprenticed under the previous blacksmith. The man asked many questions that Tempi could answer about the forge and the tools.  
  
Tempi wondered if the man knew what had happened to Cago, or if he even knew his name. He returned to the school and decided he would never venture out again until he had an assignment.

 

**\-----------**

 

Many, many years later, Tempi learned more about the way of things, and he needed to tell Kvothe. Finding him had not been easy, but he had dug up his old bedroll and found a few red hairs. An arcanist pointed him in the right direction. Turning up in Newarre, he knew Kvothe needed to know the end of the story, and he had no one else he could turn to when this story became nightmares again.

The rest of the story, as he knew it now, was this.

After Kvothe left Haert, Tempi and Vashet formed a friendship. Tempi had improved greatly while on assignment so Vashet wasn't embarrassed to be seen with him, and both of them knew Kvothe well, so they were never short on conversation topics. One day, Vashet mentioned the bandits they had been hunting.

"One was a rhinta, you know," Tempi had said.

"Sh! It is not wise to speak of them. But what you say cannot be true. It was not the time for that." _Confusion_.

"The time for that?" _Confusion.  
_

They had been equally confused, but they parsed out what they knew. There were seven. According to Vashet, they traveled together. She said at her old school, there was an understanding that sometimes people from the Path of Joy were sent to protect Ademre from the Rhinta.

"Every few years. It was very solemn. Everyone knew it was death, but no one could say no. It was a dark and dangerous thing. One did not want to be the best and be seen as a good choice should the time come, but of course we were a school, same as this, everyone wants to be the best."

"Is that why you came here?"

Vashet sat in silence. Suddenly, Tempi knew.

He knew his mother knew, that Shehyn knew, that Danil knew. She had been sent to her death. Those who did not wear the red, whether by injury or by choice or by that which they called the Lethani, were those sent from Haert. Not the best of the bravest, but those who were expendable in the eyes of the school.

Maybe those who had not started their training until later in life, who were behind their peers, who had heard tales of the rhinta and feared them above all. Someone who had not brought the school any great prize, who would be stupid enough to share the ketan and the Lethani with a barbarian in exchange for a song.

Tempi's eyes stung.

 

  
***

Once he found Kvothe in Newarre, after the initial shock, the two old friends spent that evening catching up. Tempi avoided telling Kvothe about the troubles Haert had faced, for surely Kvothe knew them better than anyone. He talked about how Penthe had been sent on an assignment with the king, how Vashet was ripe with child, but still teaching at what was left of the school.

Tempi was glad to see Kvothe's strange fae apprentice did not seem to mind Tempi borrowing Kvothe for a night, and he guessed it was the attractive apprentice who helped Kvothe to become much better in bed than he had been on the ground all those years ago. Felurian had not taught Kvothe a single thing about pleasing a man.

The next morning, Tempi found Kvothe already kneading bread dough on the bar. "So what brought you here? I know Haert is a mess. I'm sorry. If there is anything I can…"

"It is not the scrael. It is the Rhinta."

Kvothe's head sprung up. _Interest. Curiosity._

"You know of them?" Tempi asked.

"Yes. They have been the great question of my life." _Sadness. Earnest guilt._ "They are why I –"

This shocked Tempi. He expected to tell his story from the beginning. But of course, Kvothe knew all stories. If Tempi hadn't been afraid of being cut off from Ademre on their journey into Haert, he would have asked Kvothe before. He knew what Kvothe had done – everyone did – but he did not know it was because of the Rhinta. Suddenly Tempi was over eager, almost agitated.   
  
"Do you know why they plagued the Adem? Why we sacrificed our people year after year? Why I was sent on assignment with you?" _Interest._

"Oh, no, Tempi. I don't know that." _Regret. Sorrow._ "You were sent on that assignment specifically?" 

"I think so. I think the, the evil creatures, they…" Tempi stammered as he tried not to say Rhinta again. There was something Vashet had mentioned, about saying the name too many times.

"You can call them the Chandrian," Kvothe prodded. There was a silence, and both men felt a sting in their eyes, remembering the first time they had each heard the word. Before they became real. Finally, Kvothe spoke. "I knew about them before I went to Ademre. I knew about them because when I was a child, I saw them. They killed my family." Kvothe's eyes watered. He had told himself after telling Chronicler, he wouldn't be wary to tell the story, but that did not seem to be true. Tempi reached for him, in the same way Kvothe had reached for a half asleep Tempi caught in the throes of a nightmare years ago.

A nightmare that had been Kvothe's as well. It wasn't Tempi who had woken Kvothe that second night, it was Kvothe's own horrors. Neither had known the the life they shared behind the doors of their minds. And now they saw – a nightmare that had terrorized so many, who were told it was a faerie story, to keep their mouths shut so they would never share it. The stories of blue flame and bloody swords. And so it was that so many years later, the two men finally shared what kept them up at night.


End file.
